


Lacy Thoughts

by calmena, feignedsobriquet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Humor, Lingerie, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28286391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmena/pseuds/calmena, https://archiveofourown.org/users/feignedsobriquet/pseuds/feignedsobriquet
Summary: When the Winter Soldier finds himself enamored with lacy underwear, he doesn't yet know that only weeks later he'll be on the run from Hydra, and he definitely doesn't know that he'll end up with a whole collection further down the line.That doesn't stop him from stealing some anyway, however.Or:"You," he growls, and Bob jumps and looks at him with big eyes. He looks like prey, and the Soldier wants to shake his head and ask him what he's even doing here. "I'll want those back."Bob's eyes jump to the colorful pieces of lace. When he speaks, his voice is squeaky, and the Soldier can't believe this one works for Hydra. "The underwear?"
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's a Christmas miracle, there's new fic—and with amazing art by feignedsobriquet, too! Please feast your eyes on it and leave some appreciation for the amazingness that is sobri's art! You can find it further down, towards the end of this chapter.
> 
> Thanks to weethreequarter and justamanlymouse, who did the beta reading for this story. The second (/bonus) chapter will be posted in a week, it only needs a final read-through.

The Soldier lets himself be pulled along with the crowd. Here, he is anonymous, away from any prying eyes that might have seen him complete his mission. He doesn't think anyone did; after all, he's not a sloppy idiot like some of the others. However, he's also not over-confident, like Hydra as a whole tends to be, so he'd rather make sure. Hydra certainly won't be doing it, after all.

They'll just stick him back on ice and wait for things to blow over before they bring him back out again.

No discretion, those people.

Sometimes he misses the Russians. Stone-cold and fucked up they might have been, but at least they managed to say his words without mangling them. Every time Hydra tries to reset him, they make them sound so wrong they hardly work. It's inefficient, and more painful than he thinks it needs to be. In fact, that sums up Hydra in a few words.

The Soldier hates them.

Moving unconsciously, he slips past the crowd coming up from a subway station, grumbling angry Russian under his breath when someone cuts him off and almost rams their briefcase into the back of his knee in the process. Asshole doesn't even turn to look at him, but a lady next to him does, sending him a little smirk when she hears his grouching.

He doesn't know what to do with that. It's been a long time since he was smiled at, and he is very aware of the fact that a wrong reaction may cause her to remember him more clearly than he would prefer. Being remembered is undesirable. In an attempt to save the situation—his face is getting hot, this is obviously a malfunction—he turns away and stares at the store windows instead.

They are very… bright. And all of them show different things. It's overwhelming.

The Soldier doesn't know why anyone would need this much clothing. It seems like that’s all there is. Building after building selling the same things. He does not understand. Most of it doesn't seem designed to increase usefulness. There’s one store that seems to be dedicated to flimsy shoes that wouldn’t hold up for ten minutes. It would be impossible to trail someone in them, he thinks.

Unnecessary.

Moving on, the Soldier walks closer to the store windows. Despite himself, he is curious. He doesn't often have the chance to dawdle. Probably shouldn't be doing it right now either, but he was told not to be caught under any circumstances. This helps that. He thinks.

The Soldier stops.

This must be the most impractical thing he's seen so far. And yet, he is fascinated. Why would anyone wear something so fragile, something that can break so easily? The patterns don't seem to have any use besides looking nice.

They're… pretty.

The Soldier thinks this might be what people mean when they speak of love.

* * *

They bring him back in, of course. The Soldier is valuable, if not for what he can do then for the time they have invested in him.

They don't trust him, but that's fine. The mistrust is mutual, even if the Soldier does not have a choice in whether or not to do what they tell him. That the distrust comes hand in hand with dislike means the Soldier enjoys the stupid look of bafflement when he is ordered to hand off everything in his pockets and there is underwear among the various weapons, even if he does not enjoy the fact that one of the men touches it.

"What is this?"

The man is awful and the Soldier wants to tear the fragile pieces of cloth—lace, he thinks to himself, out of nowhere, it's called lace—out of his hands. He's not treating them right. If he doesn't treat the lace right, it's going to get damaged, and then the Soldier is going to have to damage _him_.

He might even enjoy it. That man has shown far too much pleasure in causing suffering to the Soldier.

There is another man behind the awful one, someone who is wide-eyed and red-faced as he stares at the lacy pieces of fabric when they are discarded on a table next to the cryo freeze chamber the Soldier will soon be returned into. "Bob", the Soldier thinks the awful man called him. He seems like a push-over.

When the awful man moves to the other side of the room to prepare something, the Soldier turns.

"You," he growls, and Bob jumps and looks at him with big eyes. He looks like prey, and the Soldier wants to shake his head and ask him what he's even doing here. "I'll want those back."

Bob's eyes jump to the colorful pieces of lace. When he speaks, his voice is squeaky, and the Soldier can't believe this one works for Hydra. "The underwear?"

The Soldier grunts. He doesn't have the patience to explain that this is lingerie, not simple underwear. If Bob doesn't know that, the Soldier won't be the one to educate him. Leave that to someone else. The Soldier just wants him to do as he's told.

Bob sweats under the glare until he finally nods jerkily. "Sure! Sure, okay, no problem! I'll just… take that underwear somewhere safe! No problem at all!"

He looks a little like he's not entirely sure if the Soldier means it. As if the Soldier would say this for any other reason. Hydra would certainly never order him to; they don't like him to have things he wants. He remembers the one time he was particularly fond of a specific Stark brand gun, only to have it taken from him as soon as he expressed his preference for it. So it's with a quiet menace that the Soldier looks at Bob, to impress upon him the seriousness of his task.

"Good."

He hopes Bob keeps his word. The lacy things were a pain to steal, even the few pieces he ended up with. The ladies in the shop hadn't looked kindly at him. One of them said something about keeping an eye out to a colleague, something he only heard because of his improved hearing, and they'd definitely done that until he left the shop again.

Hydra picked him up two streets from the shop. The Soldier is only a little disappointed that he didn't get to feel the lace against his skin. It was hard-earned, after all. He's not used to stealing when he can't kill all possible witnesses beforehand, but he won’t kill when he's not ordered to.

If Bob does as he's told, the Soldier might get the chance to try them on at some later point. Maybe if he does particularly well on his next mission.

He resolves right then to do his best on whatever his next task will be.

It only makes sense that this is one of the very few assignments where he fails. Later, weeks later as it turns out, as he's looking down at a still face that might be familiar if he concentrates, he can't help mourning the stolen bits of lace that he left behind. Whether Bob did his job or not doesn't matter now, he thinks, a bit sadly. It's not like he's going to have the chance to get them back anyway.

* * *

Bucky doesn't tell many people how much he remembers of the time since his fall. Steve would look at him with his sad eyes, and he has no idea how the various people who were involved in his "rehabilitation" would react.

His therapist is aware, but that's because he needed someone to know, back when he'd only just started living in Stark Tower.

Tony knows.

Of course Tony knows.

Their thing is still new—so new Bucky is afraid to call it a relationship yet, because _what if he jinxes it_? Wilson laughed at him when he said that out loud, so Bucky threw a spoon at him, but Steve had hidden his face in his hands and groaned, so that wasn't much better.

Apparently, they spent two months circling and making gooey eyes at each other, according to Wilson, so the thought of jinxing it is ridiculous. But that's Wilson, so Bucky made a face at him and ignored everything he said.

Steve didn't even try, which tells Bucky that this must be something he recognizes from Before, but he has no idea why. A lot of his memories are fucked up or just gone. He's come to terms with it, and he's dealing. But sometimes, and this was such a time, it was really annoying.

In any case, when he'd asked what Steve thought, Steve muttered something about being twelve and bugs, so he'd decided he didn't want to know, after all.

Anyway, he remembers enough about his time as a Hydra assassin that he knows there's a Hydra minion out there who, on the Soldier's word, very probably went and hid some lacy underwear for him.

Weirdly enough, there's a tiny part of him that still mourns that loss.

Bucky stares at nothing, frowning.

He's a free man now, isn't he? Everyone always says so; that means it must be true, right? That means that, in theory, he can go out and buy whatever he wants with the money he got from the military for having his arm frozen off and being turned into a murder zombie for a few decades.

Bucky gnaws on his lip until he tastes blood, and then he nods, decisive.

What better way to spend money he got from a military he never wanted to be part of than to buy himself something anyone in the forties would have hated.

"I'm going out!"

"Wait, what? Should I—"

Bucky is in the elevator with the door closing behind him before Steve can even finish the sentence. Good thing, too. He's not sure how he would have explained that he doesn't want Steve there when he buys himself indulgent underwear he's not certain he'll ever actually wear and not just stare at.

For that matter, he should probably figure out where he's going.

"Hey JARVIS? You mind helping me out?"

* * *

Bucky knows he's not in the forties anymore. Since he was woken up periodically, he remembers enough not to be completely lost, even if there are large portions of history he is ignorant of.

The existence of lingerie specifically designed to fit men was definitely one of them until JARVIS educated him.

He stares at the colors and choices and cuts and feels like his face is going to burst into flames. He might flee. And yet, he sort of wants to buy out the store.

That might be Tony's influence, actually.

"Can I help you?"

Bucky startles and turns wide eyes on the sales assistant who suddenly appeared next to him. It only takes a moment for the sales assistant's eyes to widen in recognition, and Bucky almost curses.

He probably should have remembered that he's a public figure now. Anonymity is not a thing he gets anymore.

Something on his face must show how close he is to turning tail and running and just forgetting all about this mortifying situation. Why he thought this would be better than just having JARVIS order something online, he doesn't know.

Maybe he wanted to feel them before he bought any.

Maybe it was remembering stealing lace underwear before, and thinking that this might just be a way to stick it to Hydra, even if they never find out about this.

Anyway, before he can make a decision one way or another, the look of recognition fades into one of polite professionalism. "First time?" is the gentle question, and Bucky doesn't even have to think before he is nodding, and something in him relaxes just the tiniest bit.

That gets him a beaming smile. "Well, then let's find you something, why don't we?"

An hour later, Bucky has ended up with more than _something_. In fact, Bucky has come to the conclusion that the sales assistant—Nate, because apparently after you've been quizzed on your underwear preferences, you get to be on a first-name basis with the one doing the quizzing—is a maniac. There is a veritable mountain of underwear on the little bench of the dressing room, and Bucky has no idea how to choose.

"I have no idea how to choose," he says, staring into space in front of the pile of fabric and lace.

Outside the changing room, cloth rustles as Nate shifts on his feet. "Just try them on and see what feels best." It sounds like he's leaning against the wall next to the curtain, and Bucky doesn't know whether that increases or lowers the pressure of the situation.

Other than them, it's quiet in the store.

Blinking, Bucky takes the first thing that he can grab and shudders at the feeling of it before he can even think about trying it on. He shoves it outside without considering any further.

"Not this one."

"Not mesh then, okay," comes back, and Bucky loses a bit of his tension that he wasn't even aware of at the easy acceptance. Nate is enthusiastic, but this is all still Bucky's choice, he reminds himself. He can walk out right now, leaving all this behind.

Or, he thinks, looking at the colorful mountain of underwear, he can try on some lace and finally do what even the Soldier had enough free will to attempt.

* * *

Because part of Bucky still thinks that he needs to be able to pack up and flee at a moment's notice, he resists buying more than what he strictly needs. Technically he doesn't _need_ any of it, but everyone always says what he wants is just as important, so he decides this is the nebulous 'self-care' that keeps getting thrown around and calls it good.

Anyway, ten pairs of lacy underwear seem reasonable. Since they take up less space than even one pair of the more traditional boxer shorts that he already has in his closet, he would even go so far as to call them practical.

At the end of the month—just two weeks later—he owns a further five because there is nobody to discourage him, and he likes the thought of having more colors to choose from. And if two of them are the exact shade of the Iron Man armor? Well, nobody is there to judge him.

* * *

Tony Stark is like lacy lingerie.

The thought pops into his head at one point while he's lying in bed, and it makes so much sense he can't believe he didn't see it before. Sure, Bucky would be the last person to call Tony delicate, but he's both _sexy_ and _flashy_ and really, that's enough to count, right?

There's also the point where Bucky may not _need_ him, but he _wants_ him. On his body. Possibly on his d—

Yeah, he thinks. No further explanation necessary.

Sometimes he still can't believe that he gets to have this.

Humming, Bucky glances at his lingerie drawer. Because he has a drawer now. He may not actually have tried any of it on so far, but even so, he knows that his new underwear deserves to be treated with respect.

"Hey, JARVIS?" he says slowly. "D'you think Tony would mind?"

He remembers a second too late that asking Tony's AI child whether Tony would like Bucky in lacy underwear might be weird. By the time he does, JARVIS has already started answering, which, yeah. So much for that. Just another thing he's probably going to hell for. Not like Hydra didn't already cinch it for him, anyway.

"I believe Sir would be suitably appreciative," JARVIS says carefully, tasteful as ever. Bucky wonders where he gets that from because it sure isn't Tony or any of the other Avengers—and he thinks that with complete approval.

He also thinks that JARVIS's answer means that there'll be some wildly enthusiastic sex if Bucky shows Tony his underwear. Probably even more so if it's already on his body. Really, that's all the encouragement he needs.

He's only a man, what can he say?

* * *

He might have underestimated the willpower this takes, Bucky thinks, fidgeting in his brand new pair of Iron Man-red lacy underpants. They're not the _only_ thing he wears, of course, since the restaurant would probably have frowned on that, even if he is here with _the_ Tony Stark. They might as well be, though, for how aware he is of them.

The suit is really very nice, and Bucky doesn't doubt that it was unbearably expensive—didn't want to ask when Tony first gifted it to him, in fact, because some things are better left enjoyed and not questioned, and he's convinced his suit might be one of them—but it does nothing to distract him from the feeling of lace against his skin.

This was a bad idea, he thinks. "This was a bad idea," he says out loud, too, because his brain to mouth filter has apparently gone on vacation.

Great.

Tony immediately looks like a sad puppy, all big eyes and heartbroken expression, and Bucky shakes his head, because no.

"No." Great work there, well done, brain. He fidgets again. The lace shifts against his skin and his brain blue-screens for a second before he manages to rally the three brain cells that are still working. "I don't mean this," he says, waving his hand around to gesture at—everything.

Tony looks a little less sad, but still like he's expecting for everything to come crashing down around him. This is going a lot worse than even in Bucky's expectations, which is something of an achievement. He'll have to do better at thinking up worst-case scenarios in the future.

"I have a surprise for you. It's—" he hesitates, but in for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying goes, right? "—distracting me."

Tony's eyes immediately turn hot and Bucky fidgets for a similar-but-different reason now. "Oh?" he says in that velvety sexy voice of his, and oh, Bucky is _weak_ for this man.

Still, Bucky manages to scrounge up a smirk from somewhere around his pelvis region, because that's where his brain—except for three brain cells—has set up shop. Really, when it comes down to it, he is a very simple man, he thinks.

"Dessert, Tony. We haven't even finished our dinner yet."

On a scale of one to ten, that was probably an eleven on the scale of stupid things to say right then, Bucky thinks later. Because all it does is force them to spend another half hour finishing their food while Bucky really just wants to go back home and peel himself out of his suit to see if Tony's eyes will go all melty and hot on him when he sees the lingerie, too.

Damn his big mouth, he thinks with suddenly dry lips as Tony makes a pleased hum around a piece of steak, eyes challenging.

He replies by fellating a stalk of asparagus.

Really, it's a wonder they don't get thrown out of the restaurant that evening.

* * *

They're both stumbling into the bedroom, fighting with each other's shirt buttons. Their suit jackets are already gone, left on the floor somewhere between the elevator and the bedroom door.

Bucky couldn't care less about where they ended up as Tony makes a triumphant sound when he gets the last button undone and almost rips the shirt down Bucky's arms.

Tony's shirt may or may not lose a few buttons when Tony starts on Bucky's pants, accidentally-on-purpose dislodging Tony's hands in the process of shoving the shirt off because no, he has _plans_.

Oh, there's absolutely a part of him that's shaking with nerves and anxious anticipation, but the lingerie he's wearing deserves a show, so that's what he's going to give.

Or, well, at least a presentation. A moment.

Also, he may or may not want to have a clear look at Tony's face when he first sees them, just so Bucky knows if it's time to flee in embarrassment.

If the teasing grin on his face is just the tiniest bit shaky, Tony doesn't mention it. His smile does get a bit softer though, a bit more warm around the edges rather than burning hot, even as he sits down on the bottom of the bed, about an arms-length away from Bucky.

Teasing his fingers over his pants button, Bucky takes a deep breath and resists closing his eyes. He wants to see Tony's face, he reminds himself and lets his pants drop.

Tony's eyes turn hot and the smile turns into a shark's grin. "Oh, _yes_."

And Bucky wants to say something clever or flirty, but he doesn't get to because Tony—descends on him.

  
  


* * *

In a funny turn of events, because that's the type of luck the Avengers apparently have, they end up fighting Hydra a month later.

Distantly, Bucky is thankful that he picked standard cotton boxer briefs instead of his finer lingerie today because there's a goo gun of some sort, and he's pretty sure some of it has seeped through to his underwear. Better to throw away one of these pairs than one of his nicer ones.

So far, none of the minions struck a chord with him, which—and nope, Bucky amends, there is one that feels familiar. There's a small niggling in the back of his head as he fights his way towards him, because anyone he remembers from his time as Hydra's pet super-soldier is usually bad news, and he tends to like taking them out of the fight the most.

That is, right up until the man's eyes fix on him and light up. Bucky actually hesitates in his step then, accidentally tripping a different Hydra minion. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, he pistol-whips that one into unconsciousness then squints back at the happy guy, who's now waving at him like he's not aware that they're on different sides.

"What the fuck?" Tony says on the comms, and Bucky echoes that in his mind.

"Hey, it's the Winter Soldier! It's me, Bob! You know, from back in the day! Wow, it's sure been a while, right? You probably want your underwear back, right?"

Bucky winces as there are several counts of, "What?!" on the comms, in different tones of voice depending on the person, and prepares himself for an embarrassing storytime after the fight is over. Maybe he can draw it out.

Speaking of the fight—

"That's—not why I'm here," Bucky says slowly, watching in confusion as Hydra Bob seems to draw into himself in response.

"Aw, but I was really careful and hid them and everything!"

For a second, Bucky has no idea how to react to that. The good news is that the other Hydra minions seem to feel the same way, because a lot of them have stopped and are staring, which makes it easier for the others to take them down.

Who'd have thought Bucky's underwear preferences would help them in a fight someday?

Oh well, what the hell, right? If nothing else, he can frame them and put them on the wall with a plaquette reading, "the original reason the Winter Soldier started to resist Hydra" or something. Steve might explode.

"Sure, Bob. Why don't you bring them to Avengers Tower."

He's sure Tony will get a thrill out of it, at least.


	2. Bonus

The thing about lingerie, Bucky muses, is that the lace is very pretty and very delicate. And he likes that just fine, especially when it's shifting against his skin every time he moves, or when Tony is pulling it off with his teeth—

Hnngh.

Anyway, pretty and delicate makes for a nice view and an even nicer feeling, but it also means lace underwear is fragile as hell.

Glancing down at the shredded remains of what was once a pair of Iron Man-red underwear, he swallows thickly. Yeah. Fragile as hell is about right, he decides. Even in his head, that comes out sounding choked up rather than dry as he'd intended.

It's probably dumb to be so upset when he has a closet literally filled with various lingerie, and it's mostly underpants by this point—a product of Tony exercising his too-much gene, as Tony likes to call it. Not that Bucky minds. The simple fact that Tony is always so _very_ appreciative when Bucky wears any of his gifts makes them feel like they're for Tony just as much as they're for Bucky.

And still, even having a veritable mountain of pretty lingerie doesn't make up for the accidental destruction of this particular pair. Not when the one that got ruined was one of the very first bits of lace underwear he ever bought ( _bought_ , not stole, because he's a sort-of-kind-of upstanding member of society nowadays, and isn’t that a whole different kind of headrush).

There's some shuffling at the bedroom door that interrupts his gloomy thoughts, only a moment before it slowly opens.

"Bucky? You okay? You've been in here for a while." 

Tony peers into the room, making a sound when he sees what Bucky is holding. The way he rocks back and forth on his heels is almost _bashful_. "Oh. Sorry about those—"

He stops when Bucky turns to look at him and Tony actually gets to see his face. Something on there must be extremely telling, because in return, Tony's expression shifts into something so apologetic, _Bucky_ feels bad about it.

"It's fine, Tony," Bucky says at the same time as Tony blurts out a, "We can frame that one, too?" which makes Bucky stop and blink.

" _Too_?"

Tony, if possible, almost seems to start fidgeting and only catches himself in the last second. 

"Well, you mentioned framing the underwear you stole back when—and that was a joke, obviously. Of course. Totally misread that, sorry about that. I'll nix the whole thing and get them out of the frames, no big deal at all, don't worry about—"

"You _actually_ got them framed?" Bucky is on his feet and at Tony's side so fast that Tony is still blinking at the indention on the bed where Bucky was sitting until a moment ago. " _Show me._ "

Tony looks like he's not sure whether he's about to be in trouble or rewarded, with the little furrow between his eyebrows and the restless tapping of his fingers against his chest where the arc reactor used to sit. He doesn't protest while leading Bucky towards what Bucky is pretty sure is one of the rooms Pepper set aside for Tony's personal art gallery, though.

Well, he thinks when he actually sets eyes on what Tony's wrought, it might still count as art? The way the frames sit on the walls looks nice enough, and if one ignored what they contain, and the empty white walls gave everything the very clean look Bucky recognizes from various hoity-toity art galleries and museums Steve dragged him along to in the past few months.

All of that doesn't change the fact that every single one of what must be ten or more frames contains lacy underwear.

"You can't let anyone in here," Bucky rasps, staring wide-eyed. "They'd never be able to look at me again."

Tony turns away from the walls to face him, an air of utter satisfaction around him now that he's realized Bucky isn't angry. There's a slightly devious glint in his eyes, and Bucky is torn between going along with whatever he's about to come out with, and taking him back to bed and thoroughly debauching him. "We could always take them to the bedroom and hang them there."

Well, that certainly makes the decision easier.

* * *

The torn, Iron Man-red lace panties do end up in their own frame and join the medley of underwear on the wall opposite their bed. Originally, they had stayed in the gallery room a little longer, but that had only lasted until the first time Pepper had led some art investor in there, and the guy almost had a heart attack.

Pepper had only shaken her head at Tony, who hadn't even tried to look like he was sorry.

In any case, they'd taken that as a sign that they should probably finally move the frames to the bedroom, where they keep being joined by new ones whenever Tony or Bucky accidentally rip another pair of underwear. 

It happens often, surprisingly or unsurprisingly so, depending on who one would ask.

If not for the fact that new pieces keep showing up—a mystery, Tony swears every time, cheerfully—there might actually end up being more underwear on the wall than in Bucky's closet. Something that Bucky has pointed out before, which only led to a bigger number of them joining his collection a few days later.

"At some point, we're going to run out of wall space," Bucky muses idly, carding his fingers through Tony's hair and thoughtfully looking at yet another ripped piece of lace lying halfway between the door and the bed.

Tony makes a grumpy noise and pointedly burrows his face in the space between Bucky's neck and shoulder, where he mutters, "Then I'm gonna buy a gallery space just for them, it's no big deal."

"I feel like Pepper would disapprove." The objection is mild though. Bucky's come to appreciate their choice of art, whether or not others agree.

Also, Steve's reaction to seeing the framed underwear _had_ been hilarious. And so had the rest of the team's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Have a happy new year, everyone!


End file.
